


Team Up

by cunning_capra



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Comedy, Found Family, Gen, Light Angst, mentions of Mamakechi, mentions of wakaba isshiki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:14:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25331518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cunning_capra/pseuds/cunning_capra
Summary: Some distant part of him (very distant he assures himself) wants to march up to the counter and pay for the beautiful, expensive, Red Hawk figure. But he’s an adult so he’ll have to deal.Soft Goro Week Day 5: Love and Bonds
Relationships: Akechi Goro & Sakura Futaba
Comments: 8
Kudos: 58
Collections: Day 5 - Love and Bonds





	Team Up

**Author's Note:**

> I'm running late on this I know! But here it is!!!

“I feel like I’m being judged.” Goro says frowning. He looks nervously around the store, past bright displays and reflective plastic. Someone glances at him curiously. He ducks his head and pulls at the drawstrings of his hoodie. 

Futaba kicks him

“I can’t believe _I’m_ the one saying this,” She says, grabbing him by his sleeve and pulling him into another aisle, “But literally no one is looking at you. No one cares.”

Goro laughs nervously as he shakes her off. His skin is hot with embarrassment and his chest tight. He looks at the floor, trying not to look too interested in the lineup of super sentai figures lining the walls. 

He wants to disappear.

“Perhaps I could just wait for you outside?” He tries hopefully. Futaba frowns. Definitely a veto then. 

“C’mon Birdman. I brought you for your high charisma stat - don’t fail me now.” She says, elbowing him in the ribs so hard he almost loses balance, “Now tell me - Do I want the new line with the fancy detailing or do I want Blue Swan to pad out my current collection?.”

Two boxes are thrust into Goro’s arms, and looking back at him are the faces of his childhood. Not that he had owned anything nearly this nice or - he looked at the price tag - expensive. His mother would never have been able to afford something of this caliber. But he’d spent enough time loitering in toy stores in his younger years to know what to look for.

Cautiously, checking first that no one is watching him, he examines them under the bright lights of the shop. The paint job is crisper than the toys he had owned as a child - obtained largely from grocery store gacha machines while his mother did the shopping. Blue Swan is posed in an energetic victory pose, looking maybe a few shades off the mark. If Futaba was looking for something rare - this would be it, he thinks. Off colors are always worth more. 

In his other hand is Red Hawk, stoically held up by plastic packaging. Goro cannot take his eyes off of him. It’s an original mold -the details of his suit are raised against vibrant, glossy red and the box boasts fully articulated joints - yet they don’t look unfinished and there’s no sign of screws or visible hinges.

Kid Goro would have adored it. As for adult Goro...

“Um.” He says. His eyes dart down the aisle. There is a woman, her son hoisted up on her hip. They are murmuring to one another and pointing at the display case. How many times had his own mother done the same - held him before a shop window, or handed him just enough yen to grab a cheap toy? 

_(Just this once, Goro. His mother would say, ruffling his hair fondly.)_

Down the aisle, the woman makes eye contact with him and smiles.

Startled - and ashamed to have been caught staring, never mind the mortification of being seen here of all places - he immediately turns his back to them and thrusts the boxes back into Futaba’s waiting arms.

“Oh?” Futaba asks impishly, “Are you done ogling Red?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He says, tucking his hands into the pockets of the hoodie. Some distant part of him (very distant he assures himself) wants to march up to the counter and pay for the beautiful, expensive, Red Hawk figure. But he’s an adult so he’ll have to deal. 

He watches her reshelve Red with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

“Whatever you say Birdman.” Futaba laughs with a shrug and hoists the remaining box up high “I’m done here - Blue Swan is joining the party!” 

How does she do it? Goro wonders, watching as she takes off down the aisle. Futaba was usually nervous in most situations - she had all but disappeared into herself on their train to Akihabara. Now, she fumbles with a revolving stand and exclaims something to herself in amusement. 

Goro for once, is the one who wants to curl up in the corner and fade from view.

“Are you coming?!” She calls impatiently. He sighs. Wants to dig in his heels and resist, but doesn’t want to risk drawing any attention to himself.

Goro Akechi does not, afterall, frequent stores like this. He wants public perception to stay that way.

“Sorry,” He says, trying to relax his shoulders as he finally catches up with her, “I got lost in thought.”

“I get it, “ Futaba says, nodding along, and in some ways, he supposes she does. They are both prone to getting lost in their own heads. And insecurities. “But no more thinking! I need to use your special passive skill. You tank, I DPS.”

“Ah. Yes. The reason I am here.” He says, letting her hand over her credit card as they walk towards the front counter.

“That’s not true.” Futaba says, “You’re here because you’re a repressed nerd.”

“Hmm.” He responds, raising an eyebrow, “Sounds fake.”

She gapes at him, faltering behind him.

“I’m rubbing off on you!” She hisses, sounding accusative. She shuffles into line behind him, ducking out of view behind his shoulder when the cashier notices them.

Goro’s world narrows. He tries hard not to stare up at the huge Featherman R poster hanging behind the counter, or the Black Falcon mask that sits up on a high shelf. 

He remembers a paper mask - cut out from one of their bills one night when his mother was frustrated- drawn in red ballpoint pen. She had affixed it to his head fondly, fingers stained in ink.

_(I’ll be your hero! He’d proclaimed.)_

He shakes himself.

“Hello,” He says pleasantly, stepping aside just far enough for Futaba to shove Blue Swan and some other miscellaneous items onto the countertop. 

He laughs and shrugs in the cashier’s direction, aiming for casual disinterest despite the thud of his heart in his ears. 

Goro is no stranger to fake smiles. To pretending and being needlessly pleasant. His life had relied on it. His reputation hinged on it. It’s effortless, easy as flipping a switch. Widening his eyes, softening his edges, laughing easily.

So he’s surprised when his smile in the reflection of the cashier’s glasses is strained.

What is he so scared of? He asks himself. He swipes Futaba’s card for her. Slides it into his pocket where she can easily retrieve it later. His hands are shaking so he crams his hands in too.

“You’re lucky, having your big brother buy this for you.” The cashier says, carefully bagging Blue Swan. Futaba shrinks further behind him, so close that he can feel the vibration when she quietly says, “Yeah, I know.”

Goro exhales in amusement, but doesn’t correct either of them. He feels a surge of affection that he immediately pushes down - he’ll examine that later.

The cashier laughs, smiles warmly, and turns to Goro, offering up the bag. He watches in horror as the smile morphs into something else. Recognition.

“Wait. Aren’t you-?”

Well shit.

“Thank you very much,” Goro says. flashing what he hopes is a winning smile. His legs move on his own.

Later he will insist that he did not run out of the store.

Futaba will vehemently disagree.

* * *

It’s raining, out in the streets, but he pays it no mind, the world a hazy gray swirling around him, as he tries to put as much distance as possible between himself and the store. His face burns, and his hair and clothing are steadily collecting rain.

Everything is too much. 

“I’m sorry.” Futaba says, tugging at his sleeve and pulling him under the awning of a deserted store front. Goro shrugs her off. His skin crawls and it feels difficult to breath. A glance tells him the street’s are empty, so he drops to a crouch, puts his face in one of his hands.

“Don’t ask me to do this again.” 

The rain drips off of the awning onto the pavement before him. He watches the water collect, watches a puddle form.

“You know...you didn’t need to come with me if it was going to make you so unhappy.” She says finally, looking intently into the display opposite them. Her reflection looks decidedly like she’s on the verge of tears, “It’s hard. To find common ground with you. And. And I thought it would be a good bonding moment. I didn’t think you would be...so uncomfortable.” She laughs nervously. 

It wasn’t Futaba who ran from the store. It’s not Futaba who is having a panic attack over nothing.

“It’s just... embarrassing.” He admits, when breathing comes easier, “Sorry for making a scene.”

“You’ve literally gone to the Red Light district to see Akira at work.” Futaba scoffs, ignoring his apology, “And shopping for figurines is embarrassing?”

“That’s different.” He says.. He’s used to seeming mature. Used to playing the role of an adult, acting older than he really is. It’s what got him as far as he did. What people reacted well to. What garnered him respect.

Acting childish...is _different._

He stands up.

“You know...I used to come here with my Mom a lot.” Futaba says, rocking back on her heels, looking now like she really might cry, “We would spend the day looking at tech stuff, and when she’d get too engrossed, I’d go and waste my time looking at figurines. Then she’d come find me, and scold me for wandering off.” 

“My mother,” He starts hesitantly, staring straight ahead at their reflections. He sees two kids. Drenched in water, faces flushed from exertion. Could pass for friends. Siblings even. 

Futaba looks back at him. Leans into his side and says nothing.

“If I got a double from a gacha machine, my mother would paint it for me, so I had more of the characters.”

“Your mom sounds smart,” Futaba says, smiling.

“Your mom was a genius.” He reminds her.

She rolls her eyes and kicks water at him.

“Next time,” He says, “Let’s just watch Featherman in Akira’s room.”

“That would probably have been a good starting place.” She agrees, “But I really wanted to see your face when surrounded by Featherman figurines. Detective Prince - Featherman Fanboy.”

That was exactly the headline he’d been afraid of.

“Was it what you were hoping for?” he asks. He’d been so nervous, so scared of being noticed, or recognized that it hadn’t occurred to him to enjoy himself.

“You looked like a kid in a candy store,” She says, “Until you got self conscious. Then you just looked constipated.”

“Thanks.” 

They stand in silence. Futaba scrolls through her phone, and Goro glances at the time. Finally she straightens her shoulders.

”Okay. You know what?” Futaba says, rounding on him, ““You used to be one of those items; really good stats, great skills, but has minus 10 HP for every use. You know?”

“Yes?” Goro says, not following at all.

“Well, you’re being upgraded.” 

She furrows her brow. Reaches into her bag and slams something cold down into his hand. Closes his fingers around it, then turns her back to him.

“Congratulations, Key Item #2.” She says, not sounding very pleased about it. The uptick of her mouth in their reflection says otherwise however.

Goro opens his hand. Closes it again. Takes a deep breath and looks up at the underside of the canopy they’re sheltered under.

“I’ll take it, if you don’t want it.” She says tersely. Her beanie is crooked on her head, “You probably don’t want to put it on your bag and stuff. Don’t need people knowing you’re. You know. A nerd.”

Red Hawk’s mask embossed in a metal keychain burns in his palm. 

He laughs.

“I’ll just tell them that my annoying kid sister gave it to me,” He says, not making eye contact with her, and looking out at the rain. He pats her head once. Her beanie slides even more to the wayside.

“Yeah.” She agrees, nudging him with her elbow. “Okay.”


End file.
